Mahmoud Darwish

(13 March 1941 – 9 August 2008 / Palestinian)

Mahmoud Darwish Poems

1. Other Berbers Will Come 4/16/2014
2. Psalm Four 4/15/2014
3. Neighing At The Slope 4/15/2014
4. I Remember Elsayyab… 4/15/2014
5. Cadence Chooses Me 4/15/2014
6. A Song And The Sultan 4/15/2014
7. Mohammed Al Durra 4/15/2014
8. Pride And Fury 4/16/2014
9. Intensive Care Unit 4/16/2014
10. I Will Slog Over This Road 4/15/2014
11. Brand Of Slaves 9/7/2013
12. In Egypt, One Hour Isn'T Like Any Other 4/15/2014
13. The Horse Fell Off The Poem 9/3/2013
14. And They Don'T Ask… 4/15/2014
15. On A Day Like This 4/14/2014
16. If I Were Someone Else On The Road... 4/15/2014
17. Now, As You Awaken… 4/15/2014
18. No Flag Flutters In The Wind 4/14/2014
19. Slain And Unknown… 4/15/2014
20. A Noun Sentence 4/14/2014
21. If I Were Another 9/3/2013
22. He Embraces His Murderer 4/16/2014
23. They Would Love To See Me Dead 4/16/2014
24. As He Walks Away 4/16/2014
25. Psalm Two 4/15/2014
26. Psalm One 4/15/2014
27. The Promise Of Liberty 4/16/2014
28. Mural 9/3/2013
29. The Cypress Broke 9/3/2013
30. Your Night Is Of Lilac 9/3/2013
31. Nostalgia To The Light 10/28/2013
32. To My End And To Its End... 4/15/2014
33. On A Canaaite Rock At The Dead Sea 4/16/2014
34. Bread 4/16/2014
35. Another Day Will Come 4/15/2014
36. Who Am I, Without Exile? 9/3/2013
37. Earth Presses Against Us 4/15/2014
38. Remainder Of A Life 4/16/2014
39. Promises Of The Storm 4/15/2014
40. A Man And A Fawn Play Together In A Garden… 4/15/2014
Best Poem of Mahmoud Darwish

I Come From There

I come from there and I have memories
Born as mortals are, I have a mother
And a house with many windows,
I have brothers, friends,
And a prison cell with a cold window.
Mine is the wave, snatched by sea-gulls,
I have my own view,
And an extra blade of grass.
Mine is the moon at the far edge of the words,
And the bounty of birds,
And the immortal olive tree.
I walked this land before the swords
Turned its living body into a laden table.
I come from there. I render the sky unto her mother
When the sky weeps for her mother.
And I weep ...

Read the full of I Come From There

Under Siege

Here on the slopes of hills, facing the dusk and the cannon of time
Close to the gardens of broken shadows,
We do what prisoners do,
And what the jobless do:
We cultivate hope.

A country preparing for dawn. We grow less intelligent
For we closely watch the hour of victory:

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